Chronicle of the Cowl
by FosterStinson
Summary: The Bat Family attempts to decide what will become of Gotham City


Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon, Tim Drake, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown, and Alfred Pennyworth were all gathered around a small able in Wayne Manor. There was one empty seat. They were all silent. They were all afraid to be the first one to speak. In all honesty, none of them wanted to be there. None of them wanted to be in this situation. They were all about to get up and leave without saying a word before he stumbled in.

"Sorry I'm late… I didn't want to come." Muttered a slightly drunk Jason Todd. No one looked him in the eye as he sat down in the empty seat. After seating down he pulled out a small joint and a lighter, but Barbara hit him in the arm, causing him to drop both, not caring enough to react. Everyone was now staring at him.

"Well," began Alfred "Now that we're all here, I suppose it's time to get down to business. We need to discuss what will become of the city."

"The city's fucked. We all know that, you're all just too afraid to admit it." Said Jason.

"How dare you!" shouted Cassandra, getting out of her seat to attack Jason, but Dick and Tim had to grab her arms and pull her back down.

"Jason, you can't possibly believe that." Urged Barbara.

He chuckled. "Of course I do. _Bruce is dead_. The Batman is gone, and Gotham City is fucked. I don't know why I even bothered to show up here. None of you want me here, you all hate me, I know that. I'll just do you all a favor and show myself out." He then picked up his joint and lit it, blowing smoke at the people he once considered family before walking out. He stopped in front of his motorcycle. He stared at the Red Hood helmet resting on his seat for some time. He smoked his joint once more before throwing it on the ground and walking away from his bike, into the backyard of Wayne Manor. He stumbled through the tall grass that hadn't been cut in ages. Eventually he reached it. The graves. A large, grand tombstone for Thomas and Martha. A small, shapely one, barely noticeable next to them for Bruce.

Bruce Wayne.

Hero. Father. Friend.

Words that could have been used to describe him on his grave. But none of them were there. Just a name, date of birth, and date of death.

Bruce Wayne. October 30th 1967-June 5th 2015.

"This is pathetic, Bruce." Said Jason. "Your tombstone is pathetic. But this is what you wanted. I don't see why! I don't understand why you didn't want your family to mourn you. People did love you, you fucking prick. People did… love…" he swallowed nervously. He took a step closer and felt his legs trembling. He fell to his knees and put a hand on the grave. "I loved you! You were like a father to me, you were the only one who never gave up on me! Not like those assholes in there-" he turned around and pointed at Wayne Manor but stopped cold when he saw Alfred standing before him.

"Stand up, Master Jason." He did as he was told. "I understand your frustration."

He opened his mouth but was interrupted. "Let me finish." Said Alfred, sternly. Jason shut his mouth. "I understand your frustration. Since your return you've always considered yourself the black sheep of this family. And because of the way you perceived yourself, others chose to view you that way as well. But not me. Never me. To this day I still see you as that perky young man in spandex who thought of the day Bruce Wayne took him in as the best day of his young life. I remember you calling me Alfie, in a simple attempt to annoy me. But it didn't. I quite admired your tenacity. I still do. I understand that you miss Bruce, and you have your own way of showing it. No one person is allowed to miss someone more than another, but that doesn't make such things true. I find it best not to measure grievances, but to share them. I-" Jason broke his promise and interrupted Alfred. He walked over and embraced him, tears streaming down his face.

"Thank you, Alfred."

It didn't take Alfred more than a second to hug Jason back. As they were reconciling, everyone else was clearing out. Stephanie and Cassandra were both headed out into the city, Tim and Barbara were staying at the mansion to continue clearing out some of Bruce's old stuff, but Dick was the first one to leave. They were all glad Jason had interrupted the meeting and, in turn, put it off once more.

No one knew where Dick was headed. He didn't even know until he got there. He showed up at Arkham Asylum and met with Commissioner Gordon. They barely had to converse, Gordon showed Dick to where it was he wanted to be and left him alone. He walked into the Medical Bay and sat down next to the Joker's bedside. His heartbeat was slower than anything Dick had ever seen.

"You've never seen me without my mask. But it doesn't matter anymore, because you're going to die." He was silent for a while longer. "When you first killed Jason, Bruce almost killed you but I saved you. I wish I hadn't. Because you killed my father. Now you're going to die. You just had to have the last laugh didn't you, you prick?" Dick got up and raised his fist, but it trembled in the air as a tear streamed down his face. It fell off and landed on the Joker. It was at this point that Dick took a deep breath and turned to walk away. As soon as he exited the Medical Bay he was met with anesthetic gas sprayed right into his face and the faint sound of Harley Quinn's laughter.


End file.
